The Biker's Wench (10 page)

But the man in the shower did. The man who'd risked everything to help her, even before he really knew her. The man who still hadn't given up on her, even when she was ready to give up on everything. Her heart racing, she pushed the bathroom door open and slipped inside, the damp heat enveloping her as she stood staring at the opaque white curtain. She wanted to go to him, but a tiny niggle of doubt held her in place.

The teasing comment washed away the last of her fear, as he grinned at her around the curtain. "I might even wash yours if you're lucky." She smiled and stepped into the shower. He wrapped his arms around her and bent down for a kiss so tender and...
loving
she nearly forgot to breath. "Better this morning?" he asked, guiding her under the spray. She nodded and closed her eyes as he gently tipped her head back, his fingers smoothing the water into her hair. Bliss.

Then his lips were on the side of her neck, licking, sucking, and moving lower. She sighed, her arms sliding over his shoulders as he took the peak of one nipple between his lips. She arched into him, only his hands at her hips keeping her from falling back as he pulled and nipped at her breast. Heat and moisture between her legs brought a moan to her lips, and she grasped his head, pulling him up to meet her eyes.
"Inside me," she said, her voice raspy with need. "Now, please."
Harley nodded. "Yes ma'am." He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his

waist, sinking down onto his thick, rigid cock with a whimper of delight. He turned to brace her against the wall, and then took her lips, his tongue plundering her mouth as he thrust in and out, in and out in a slow, steady rhythm.

He pulled back an inch, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an intensity that blew her away. "You're mine," he growled, punctuating the statement with a hard thrust. "You'll always be mine. Don't ever leave."

Tears threatened as she shook her head. "I'm yours," she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly as she tightened her inner muscles around him. "I won't leave. Ever. I love you."

He pressed his lips to hers again and buried his face in her neck as he pounded into her against the shower wall, as if desperate to mark his claim. Her eyes fluttered closed as the tension built between her legs, her whole body spasming as she came, wave after wave of pure bliss radiating over and through her skin. He lifted her higher, his shaft sliding free and she whimpered again as he lowered her to her feet, holding her tight against him as she rode out the orgasm.

When she could breathe again, she looked up at him, caressing his jaw with her hand. "You didn't..."
He shrugged, his lips turned up slightly. "No condom." He turned off the cooling water and pushed the shower curtain aside. Stepping out of the bathtub, he reached for a towel, but Monica grabbed his arm.
"Not so fast, mister." she grinned, stepping out next to him and sitting on the edge of the tub. Grasping his hips, she leaned forward, flicking the end of his cock with her tongue. With a wink, she took him into her mouth, her gaze locked on his as she sucked him deeper. He groaned, his fingers running through her hair as she pulled back slowly then pushed forward again. She licked and swirled her tongue, working him with her mouth until he began thrusting his hips forward, gentle but insistent. Circling the fingers of one hand around the base of his shaft, she pulled and pumped and sucked until his body stiffened, the warmth of his release flowing down her throat.
"Wow." Harley took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He helped Monica to her feet, nearly stumbling backward into the counter as his own equilibrium malfunctioned. Wrapping his arms around her, he held tight, part of him daring to hope that she meant what she'd said. The other part warning him to wait and see. Reluctantly he loosened his hold and grabbed the towel he'd been reaching for earlier. He tossed it around her shoulders, stifling the urge to rub her down himself. "We'd better get moving," he said, his tone harsher than he'd intended judging by the question in Monica's eyes. He winked as he wrapped a towel around his own waist. "I really don't think we're going to get anything done until we put some clothes on...unless you'd rather not. I'm sure we could find some way to keep ourselves entertained for the day..."
She giggled. "Go get dressed," she said, playfully tossing her towel at him. "I'll just brush my teeth and meet you in the kitchen...say, twenty minutes?"
He nodded, just happy to see her smiling as he turned and walked out of the room. She probably wouldn't be by the time they were done talking. They needed to figure out how to get evidence against her father, something that would ensure that he'd be locked up for life. If the FBI agent posing as a bodyguard couldn't get anything, he had little hope they'd be able to. Still, he had to try. Not just for the ranch, but for her as well. Monica had been put through the wringer by Burns, and that was enough to put him away for good, from Harley's perspective.
He pulled on clean jeans and a tight black t-shirt, then padded out to the kitchen in bare feet. He put a pot of coffee on and set the counter island with two bowls, spoons, glasses, and a box of cereal. He was just getting the milk out of the fridge when Monica joined him.
"Better?" she asked with a grin, scooting onto a padded bar stool.
He stood back, pretending to study her like an artist sizing up a subject. "No." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "But it will do for awhile, I guess." He joined her, putting the milk between them on the counter. "Help yourself," he said, trying to decide how to approach the conversation they needed to have. He decided to start with the truth.
“There’s an FBI agent working undercover for Burns, but he hasn’t been able to get anything because Burns keeps the business so far removed from himself most of the time. This is the first chance he’s had to even get close, but he asked for my help. If I—we, can get him something, he’ll be able to pass it back to the proper authorities.”
She poured milk on her cereal and handed the container to him. "Well, we should start by talking to him then," she said, her gaze focused on her bowl. "I don't know what kind of evidence he needs, but we should get it fast before my...uh, Burns decides to split." She glanced at him, her expression neutral.
Harley nodded. It was probably for the best, this cool detachment, considering what her role would have to be for the duration. Still, he rubbed a hand over her shoulder, pleased when a hint of warmth tinged her cheeks at his touch. "You're going to have to convince Burns that you forgive him," he said, feeling her shiver under his fingers. "Not just to get evidence, but to stay safe. If he thinks you might go to the police, there's no telling what he'll do to keep that from happening. If anything happened to you..."
She leaned toward him, resting her head against his chest as he hugged her close. "I've been pretending to be his daughter for nearly as long as I've been alive," she said, kissing his jaw before pushing gently out of his embrace. "I'll manage until we can throw the bastard in jail."
Harley grinned. "That's my girl." He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Burns' number. "Might as well get this ball rolling," he said, holding the phone to his ear.

Monica bent low over the green felt, cradling the stick between her thumb and forefinger as she lined up a shot on the eight ball. It was a perfect, straight shot into the corner pocket and under normal circumstances she'd make it every time. Pivoting the stick just a tiny bit on her hand, she drew back and popped the cue ball, striking the eight enough off-center to send it careening recklessly into the rail and back down toward the other end of the table.

"Oops!" she said, giggling as she stood and backed away, stumbling over her own feet just enough to make it believable. "Don't know how I mished that," she slurred at a grinning Harley. His smile was genuine, and she thought maybe he was enjoying her role just a little too much. Would he help her line up the next shot, she wondered?

"I think maybe you've had too much to drink, sweetheart." He came in close, bracing one hand on her back for support as he leaned in to kiss her neck. "Ready?" he whispered in her ear before straightening to look at her. She nodded, trying to ignore her body's reaction to him as she spun around to fall neatly against the high table Burns and his bodyguards were sitting at. Glasses went flying despite the best efforts of the guards, and Monica stifled a laugh at the look on Burns' face when his Jack and water ended up in his lap.

"I'm shor--sorry," she said, real laughter on her lips. "I think I'm a little...tipsy." She leaned to the side, stumbling against the nearest bodyguard who caught her arms and set her upright. "I think maybe I should go home." She stepped back, tripping over her heel and falling against Harley's chest. Just where she wanted to be. Too bad she couldn't stay.

He chuckled low in her ear. "Well done, honey." Then he raised his head to peer over her shoulder. "Would you mind if Monica borrowed one of your bodyguards to take her back to our place? I've got some things to finish up, and I don't think she should be wandering around in her condition, if you know what I mean."

Burns shook his head, disapproval in his gaze as he watched Monica. She avoided eye contact, kept looking everywhere but at him as though she couldn't focus on anything. Finally he shrugged, gesturing to the nearest bodyguard. "Escort Ms. Burns home, then come right back here."

"Majors," Monica corrected, surprised when the name rolled off her lips. "I'm married now, Daddy, don't you remember?" She raised her left hand, wiggling her ring at him with an exaggerated motion. Somehow she managed not to let her middle finger float out at him.

"Alright Darlin'." Harley grasped her shoulders and turned her to face a tall, broadshouldered man. "It's time to go. This nice man is going to see you home safely, and I'll be along in an hour or so. Don't give him any trouble, okay?"

"Mmm...K," she purred, stepping forward to place both hands on the man's chest. "I'm sure we'll get along just fine." She grinned, then took his hand and started pulling him towards the door. She remembered to bump against tables, chairs and people on her way out for effect, tugging the bodyguard out onto the old-looking wooden porch and down the stairs of the Double D. They walked down the center of the road, passing a group of harem girls all scurrying quickly in the opposite direction. After they'd gone, Monica turned to her would-be protector.

"What's your name?" she said, pitching her voice high and valley-girl. He merely smiled and kept walking. Okay then, she thought. "Because my husband Harley said your name was Daniels. He said you might talk to me like you talked to him that one night."

She wondered if she'd made a mistake when the bodyguard just kept walking, ignoring her question. Maybe this wasn't the undercover agent after all, though Harley had seemed certain. Perhaps she'd just played her part too well. But if this wasn't the guy, she couldn't afford to have him running back to her father with the news that he was being set up. She decided to try a different approach. It was risky, but they were almost to the mansion and she was running out of time.

"So, Mr. Tough Guy..." she weaved a little, bumping him with her shoulder. “Hypothetically speaking, what's the biggest thing my dad has to watch out for so he doesn't get caught doing...well, you know. What he does."

"Your husband told you to ask me that?"
They'd reached the front steps of the mansion, and she led him inside. She didn't answer until they were safely in the elevator going down. Deciding to play her hand and

risk it all, she turned to face the bodyguard.
"He said you were undercover," she finally replied, dropping all pretense of
intoxication. "We know he's smuggling children, babies mostly. What we don't know is
what you need to lock him away for life."
Thick tension filled the small space as he stared at her with narrowed eyes, and for a
long moment she thought she'd made a colossal mistake. The elevator doors opened, and
she moved to exit, but he stepped around her to block her path. Her heart pounded as she
backed away, stopping only when her shoulders pressed into the far wall of the car. "Why would you set your own father up," he asked, dropping one hand to into the
opposite side of his suit jacket.
Monica swallowed hard. "He's not my father," she said, noting surprise on the man's
face. "According to what he told me last night, I was his first...purchase." The hand she'd assumed was reaching for a gun reappeared with a cell phone instead.
She let out the breath she'd been holding, relieved that she wasn't going to be shot. At
least for now. He dialed a number, his eyes glancing from her to the floor and back again
as he waited.
"Mr. Burns?"
Monica felt her stomach drop as he spoke. Oh God. Harley was still at the bar. What
would they do to him for her disloyalty?
"This is Daniels. Your daughter is safe at home. I'll be back shortly." He nodded, then
disconnected the call, stowing the phone back in his pocket. He gestured her Monica to
follow him. "That will buy us a few minutes. Show me where you live." Monica nodded, fear and anger battling in her head. She led the way down the hall
and unlocked the door to the suite, then locked it behind them. "Please, just tell me," she
said as she turned to face him. "Whatever you need, we'll get. Anything to put him behind
bars for good."
And out of my life.
"You're sure it's babies he's selling?"
Monica nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. "The one I saw was a baby - pretty
young too. Though he implied that I was bought as a child."
Daniels stared at the floor for a long moment before looking back up at her. "I'll need
a sample of your hair, for starters. And something to wrap it in. It's a long shot, but your
biological parents may have regretted their decision and put a missing persons report out.
We'll see."
She took a step back, wary. "I don't want to find my real parents..."
"You don't ever have to know who they are or talk to them if you don't want, but it
would be a solid foundation for the case if they came forward. Plus we can prove you're
not Burns' daughter by comparing your DNA to his." He waited patiently, his expression
clearly expecting her eventual cooperation. So like Harley, she thought, though not nearly
as potent.
"Fine." She sighed. "What else?"
He glanced at his watch. "Any kind of pictures or video would be the best evidence.
DNA from the kids would be handy too, along with any paperwork at all you can find.
Really anything you can find that links your...Burns to the activity will be helpful.
There's no such thing as too much."
She nodded. "Okay. We can do that." She reached up and yanked a few hairs from
low on her head, and put them into a small envelope that was lying on the hall table.
"How do we let you know when we have something?"
He took the envelope and slipped it in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Have Harley
text me from his phone with 'all clear'. I can explain that easily enough if Burns asks and
I'll get in touch with him on his phone as soon as I can get away." He took a pen and
small notepad out of his pocket to write on, then handed her a slip of paper with the
number. "I've got to get back, but thank you. If you two can get me enough evidence, we
can put Burns away for a long, long time. I'll do what I can to help now that I know
what's going on." He gave her the briefest smile and let himself out, shutting the door
tight behind him.
Monica snapped the deadbolt in place, suddenly feeling very exposed. What if
Daniels wasn't really an agent? Or what if he was, and her father found out before they
could get any evidence? She rubbed the back of her neck, closing her eyes and wishing Harley was there. He'd hold her, kiss her, tell her everything would be all right. Her lips curved up in a smile just thinking of his warm touch, and as if on cue, a key rattled in the
lock, popping the deadbolt open.
She turned to meet him, hugging herself as the door opened to keep from throwing
herself into his arms. It took a moment for her to process that the man in the doorway
wasn't Harley.
"What are you doing here? And how did you get a key?"
"Oh come now, Monica. Is that any way to greet your father?" Stephen Burns stepped
into the apartment, his arms stretched wide. He smirked at her and lowered his arms as
Daniels and Harley entered, followed by two men she'd never seen before. "I've enjoyed
this little game of cat and mouse, but I'm afraid that finding out both my bodyguard and
my daughter are disloyal has put me in somewhat of a foul mood."
"But how--" Monica stopped, her blood pressure rising. He had been listening the
whole time. All the years she'd spent living with this man - running from him, and she
hadn't thought to worry about listening devices. She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head
slowly. "You've been listening all along, haven't you? When did you plant the bug?" He laughed, the sound bouncing too loudly around the small room. "I have your
husband and your FBI agent waiting for me to decide their fate and you want to know
when I planted the bug? No wonder I finally caught you. You have your priorities all
wrong, darling."
"On the contrary,
Mr. Burns
. For once in my life, I have my priorities right where
they should be." She met Harley's gaze, saw the corner of his lips just barely turn up
before she focused on Burns again. "Since you brought it up though, what are you going
to do with us? Assuming you aren't going to just make us disappear, that is. People might
notice if the owner of the compound goes missing...not to mention a federal agent." "I'm hurt that you think I could do that to my own daughter." Burns smacked his left
palm to his chest in a dramatic mocking gesture. "And since you're married, your
husband is family. I might get mad at him once in a while, but as long as he doesn't hurt
you, he's welcome with us."
Monica wanted to take comfort in the words, but she still nibbled her lower lip. "And
Agent Daniels?"
Burns lowered his gaze to the floor. "An undercover snitch is another matter, I'm
afraid." He looked up, his eyes hard and glittering. Monica glanced at Daniels, noting the
weary, resigned look on his face. It occurred to her that once again, she'd put a man in
danger just by being who she was. She looked at Burns, who met her gaze and held it.
"Snitches are a liability, and if I allow one to live, loyalty will be much harder to come by
in staff. No, I need to make an example, so others know there are consequences to their
actions." He nodded to the man behind Daniels, who cocked his gun, the sound ringing
just as loud as any shot.
"Wait!" Monica stepped forward, unable to just watch the man get shot. "There has to
be some other way - can't you just send him off somewhere and say he disappeared or
was murdered or whatever?"
Burns shook his head. "Sorry. There's only one outcome to this." He motioned to the
door. "Not in front of the kids, Steve." The man prodded the small of Daniels' back with
his gun, and Daniels didn't look back as he walked to the door. Monica swiped at a tear,
taking a step toward Harley before she realized what she was doing.
"You're a beast, and I'm glad I'm not related to you," she said, blinking her eyes
quickly. A muffled shot in the hall made her gasp, and she finally ran to Harley, not
caring what happened. He folded her in his arms, his embrace calming her nerves even
though the danger was still very real.
"Very touching," Burns said, his tone mocking. "Andrew, please make the lovebirds
comfortable in the master suite. They'll be more comfortable there while I'm processing
the last of the merchandise."